hiteness
is a dream
i woke to
soul screaming
with bad rock
in an adolescent doldrum
suburban night
was quiet
i ghosted
in obtrusive black
a glowing cigarette
against an empty playground
the night
is a dark love
of mystics and devils
the moon
a perilous mistress
hard against cement
would you ride her to God
small man?
as yet
untested
by the mediocrity of morning
a thousand sands of day
wearing the heart
to a lumpy putty
a rage
would crash against the sea
at least a few times
and tear a king
from a white paper heart
burning
and pressing on
towards the shining letters
white in the headlights
a billboard in the distance
brilliant with moonlight
and another billboard
tall above nebraska’s
golden waves
not even out yet
of the midwest
as morning breaks.